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“I don’t work in a clinical setting anymore, and I don’t plan on returning.” Monti rubbed her palms together. She had anticipated this line of questioning the last time they’d met. When it hadn’t happened, she’d assumed she’d gotten away without it. “Two years ago, I realized I needed to do a deeper search. I needed to find peace.”

“And have you found it?” Athena eyed her over the glass as she sipped. Her eyes were so blue, the red rims and puffiness such a stark contrast. It brought out the color in a way Monti hadn’t expected. Her face was heart shaped. In another life, Monti could imagine Athena being the talk of the town, living up to her given name. “Monti?”

“No,” Monti finally answered, brought back to reality by Athena’s voice. “But I believe finding inner peace is an ongoing process. I’m not sure it’s ever complete. Though I know many religions and religious leaders would say otherwise.”

“So would many therapists.”

“I’m not like many therapists.” Monti’s palms were clammy. Why did she feel like she was under fire?

“Of course not. Everyone is unique and different.” The comment was flippant, and it stung.

Monti wasn’t about to let Athena in on that fact, however. She didn’t need more ammunition to toss Monti out. And what Monti really needed to do was figure out if the attitude was because Athena was exhausted or if she really was that cruel-hearted.

Clenching her teeth, Monti settled her heart and calmed the defensiveness that rose up in her chest. That would only be a hindrance in this conversation. “The idea in any therapeutic situation, whether it's psychological, medical, or massage, is to create a safe space. I need to make sure you feel that, otherwise our session today won’t go forward.”

Athena stared directly at Monti, her eyes wide. Though Monti couldn’t read the emotion running through her.

“Do you trust me?” Monti asked.

“You’ve done nothing to earn my trust,” Athena barked back.

“I’ve shown up twice, and the first time, you did sleep. I’d say that’s a small amount of trustworthiness.”

Athena canted her head to the side, the lines of her neck long and tense. She swallowed, her throat tightening before it relaxed. The muscles in her cheeks followed suit, dropping as Athena slowly closed her eyes and opened them again. “Yes, you’re right.”

Monti hadn’t expected that. But she would take the win. “The last time I was here, I massaged your hands and your scalp. How was that for you?”

“It was good.” Athena rested her head against the chair. She seemed so aloof, but Monti was pretty sure this was entirely because of the lack of sleep.

“Good. I’m glad. I’d like today to work on a little more than your hands and scalp, considering that didn’t seem to resolve the problem.”

Athena hummed. “What do you want to touch?”

“Your shoulders and neck. Upper arms if you’ll allow it. You don’t need to take your clothes off, since I doubt that would make you more comfortable. But if you could remove your jacket…” Monti trailed off, already noting the tension rising in the room and seeing Athena’s pulse skyrocket in the line of her neck.

“I don’t like to be touched.”

“I know,” Monti responded, softening her voice immediately. This was delicate territory she was walking through. “And I’ll respect whatever you tell me. I do believe that you hold a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders. I imagine you’re in more pain than you realize.”

Athena shifted, turning her upper body in order to look Monti directly in the eye. A thrill of hope ran through Monti’s chest and settled into her stomach. This must be it, the moment she had been waiting for when they would take another step forward. Monti stayed still, scared she would frighten Athena back into her hidey-hole.

Athena raised a hand to her ear, brushing an invisible strand of hair, but she didn’t tear her gaze from Monti’s. Her words were precise and without ire as she spoke.

“You have no earthly idea.”

six

Every noise was loud in Athena’s ears. Her breath. Her heart. Her brain that just wouldn’t shut the fuck up already. That part of her that clogged her throat anytime she tried to do something outside of her comfort zone. She clenched her jaw, her molars grinding against each other and the sound reverberating through her head.

Even Monti was loud. The shifting of the fabric of her pants against the chair, the weight of her body as the springs groaned under her movement. The clicking of her nails against each other as she rubbed the backs of her fingers and waited for a response.

That panic.

It clawed at her.

Athena struggled to push it back down in her chest. She was safe here. She was always safe in this house. And Monti had done nothing that should set her on edge. So why was she? Was it only because Monti needed to touch her? Because of the scars and hidden secrets that might be revealed?

“You need to breathe,” Monti’s voice was gentle, and it floated to Athena’s ears like a sweet balm.